Guardian Angel Romsca
by Toboe LoneWolf
Summary: When Romsca died in Pearls of Lutra, it looked like she had become a Reformed Vermin. Does that mean she goes to the Happy Place where only good woodlanders get to go? Well, yes, sort of...but before that, she has to become...a guardian angel first...
1. Prologue

_Summary:_ When Romsca died in _Pearls of Lutra_, it looked like she had become a Reformed Vermin. Does that mean she goes to the Happy Place where only good woodlanders get to go? Well, yes, sort of...but before that, she has to become...a guardian angel first...

_Disclaimer:_ Toboe LoneWolf does not own _Redwall_, any rodent of any kind, or Brian Jacques, who is doing quite fine in England, let me tell you. 

Toboe LoneWolf: Heyla! I'm back! And yes, another one of my wacky ideas. They come and go at weirdest times. I must apologize beforehand for the terrible accent usage; I am not a great writer at accented dialogue like Brian Jacques. So please excuse my terrible seabeast accent, wot?

* * *

**Guardian Angel Romsca**

_Prologue: You're Dead_

All vermin know that when you die, it ain't a pretty place. 

So Romsca was not very optimistic when she found herself in that proverbial tunnel and saw the light at the end. 

_Might as well meet me old mates_, Romsca thought, floating or whatever it was. _'S not like I'll ever see that abbey place again. Huh, a thought like that..._

So when Romsca emerged from the tunnel, a short little mouse in a white tunic standing in front of pearly gates with fluffy white clouds was not what she expected. Romsca looked down at herself to find that she was in similar attire.

"What in Hellgates is this?"

The mouse smiled. "Hello, Romsca."

"Er, 'ello...'ey, how'd ye know me name?"

The mouse smiled. "Well, you're the first ever of the likes of you that ever made it here. Figured I'd better welcome you here." He grimaced. "Well, sort of."

"Eh?"

The mouse shook himself. "Making a mess of things, am I? Let me introduce myself. I'm Martin." He paused. "Martin the Warrior."

Romsca stared at him. "Really? I ain't 'eard of you..."

"...I'm dead."

Romsca scratched her head. Okay, so a lot of mousey types were dead. Come to think of it, she'd done a lot of that herself. "...And you're standin' here 'cause..."

Martin sighed. "Well, you know that usually, searats and corsairs like you usually don't make it here. They go to Hellgates." He pointed down with his paw. "But you're the first. And quite frankly, we don't know what to make of you."

"Eh?"

"So, in consensus we've come up with this. You're to become a...guardian angel of sorts. Contrary to belief, we don't like it when somebeast goes to Hellgates. It's Judgement," Martin shrugged, "but we don't get pleasure of knowing that somebeast is in there. So, since you're the first, you're to...lead others like yourself. Show them that they don't have become corsairs and fight and kill and terrorize the seas."

Romsca stared at Martin. "Yer sayin' that I'm gonna be an angel?"

"Yes."

"With them wings an' all?"

Martin winced. "Well, in time. You have to earn them first, but—"

"I don't believe it." Romsca stated flatly. "Me mum always said I'm a goin' to Hellgates, an' a seabeast can't change their ways, an' anyways I ain't one of 'em angel-types, all clean and pretty, I'd scare all yer kids and—whose are ye, anyway? How'd I know ye ain't makin' this stuff up an' I'm just dreamin—"

"I'm telling the truth." Martin glared. 

Romsca pointed a paw. "Oh? Then proves it!"

Martin rolled his eyes. He held out his paws. Suddenly, the sky turned dark, lightning flashed and thunder reverberated in the heavens. Martin's eyes grew black and huge white wings manifested from his back, unfurled. Romsca threw herself down into gray thunderclouds and stuffed her ears as the entire world boomed with Martin's words,

"I AM THAT IS!"

And a chorus behind him sang, "HALLELUJAH!"

Then the clouds receded, a rainbow appeared, and chirping doves flew across the sky. Martin raised an eyebrow as Romsca peeked up.

"Now do you believe?"

Romsca banged her head against the clouds, which wasn't very effective. Alright, so she wasn't hallucinating, she was most definitely dead, and she was going to be a...guardian angel.

Oh, the irony if her mates could see her now...

Romsca stood up and rubbed her ears, trying to get the sense of hearing back. 

"Alright then, I believe ye."

And bing! Romsca felt a certain illuminating object hovering over her head. Looking up, Romsca saw a golden halo. 

Romsca looked at Martin in accusation. 

Martin smiled. "Right then. You've been inducted to be the first ever Corsair Guardian Angel." He reached out a paw, which Romsca took with hesitation. "Now come. You're about to go through on-job training."

Romsca was still trying to get used to this Thing over her head, and didn't quite catch onto what Martin just said until they were floating over Redwall Abbey. 

"Wait a sec, _training?"_


	2. Mission One: Arven

Disclaimer: Toboe LoneWolf does not own Redwall or any real-estate that even remotely looks like Redwall Abbey. Do you know how much property tax must be on that thing? Wait a sec, they've probably got an exception… XD

Toboe LoneWolf: As some of you've been wondering, Romsca is the first "true" vermin to "reform." True, Blagguts of _The Bellmaker_ did "reform," however…he was an simpleton. XD Romsca is the first true vermin with brains that "reformed." (I don't count Veil, because he was raised at Redwall.)

* * *

__

Mission One: Arven

This was not supposed to be happening.

Romsca was supposed to be burning in Hellgates for all eternity for all the terrible things she'd done as a corsair.

Instead, she was floating above a pretty woodland in a white tunic with little birdies tweeting overhead.

…On second thought, she didn't mind change in plans.

Romsca growled under her breath as she attempted to rip off that annoying halo over her head. It was just _there_ – it didn't give off heat, she couldn't touch it, it was just annoyingly there, and quite frankly, a golden halo over one's head is _not_ what any self-respecting ferret would want. Not to mention a severe lack in weaponry on hand. Romsca was floating over Redwall Abbey – not a place she'd thought she'd see again – in only a pearly white tunic. Truth be told, Romsca was a bit edgy without a good cutlass in paw. Not that good guardian angels _had_ cutlasses.

Romsca jumped a bit when Martin clasped her shoulder. "Alright then, time to get started."

"Start with wot?" Romsca said suspiciously.

Martin pointed down. "With your first mission."

"EH? I thought I was supposed t'get trainin'!"

Martin scratched an ear. "Well yes, but we kind of need your work fast, so it's on-the-job training. Mission one: stop that dibbun."

__

"EH?"

Martin sighed, and pulled Romsca down, until they were floating about tree-top height above a certain rule-breaking squirrel dibbun. The dibbun was talking to himself, and waving a big stick.

"Yessem, todayes I'm a gonna get dem blizzards, an' theyses gonna scream an' –"

Romsca turned to Martin. "…'Blizzards?' "

Martin coughed. "Ah, 'lizards.' "

Awkward moment of silence. Martin coughed again. "Anyway, that young one's name is Arven. He's the current 'rebel' at Redwall, and gets in trouble a great deal. So…your first mission-in-training is to stop Arven from leaving Redwall." Martin held out a paw at Romsca's automatic question. "And this is basically how you'll do it: you'll speak to him."

"I'll what? I'm dead!"

"I know." Martin said with a deadpan voice. "So am I."

"…That's real encouragin'."

Martin shrugged. "Look, we're kind of in a rush, okay? There's this big meeting I have to go to, Rose is going to have my tail if I'm late again, and there's going to be a huge Turning Point coming up. Meaning, the fate of Redwall is on the line." Martin raised an eyebrow. "And you're going to have a part in it, so you'd better get a hang of this quick."

Romsca scratched an ear. What in Hellgates? Why in the world did she have to do anything? Glancing at Martin, who was glaring at her, and not wanting to go through another Proclamation of Power, she said, "What'll I 'ave t'do?"

"Well, basically all you do is concentrate really hard on his name, and speak." Martin raised a paw. "But you can't actually talk to him."

"…What?"

"You can't converse with him. Riddles, or vague meanings only. Only in dire situations can you actually _command_ him to do something, and that usually only goes for Warriors."

Romsca just stared at him, jaw slightly agape. What in the name of sea'n'fur was she then supposed to _say?_ She was no trickster, to come up with riddles at the drop of a paw. Sure, some of her mateys could do that, but not her. Besides, Martin was simply standing there – alright, floating there – like a perfect angel, smug as anything, sure in being Right.

…Yeah right. She'd show him the corsair way of doing things.

Blunt.

Romsca waved a paw. "That's all? Speak in riddles an' the like? Aw hellgates, 'm a corsair, through'n'through, an' ain't the kind that wish-washes. I'll make it plain'n'simple fer the young 'un."

And before Martin could stop her, Romsca dropped down and floated about head height on the dibbun.

"Oi! Arven or wotever yer name be!"

Arven happily kept bumbling on. "And den I be choppin' their tails off and stews them over a big fat fire—"

"Hey you!" Belatedly Romsca remembered the 'instructions' and concentrated on the dibbun's name. _Alrighty then, Arven. Arven Arven Arven Arven sea'n'fur this blighter ain't easy to catch 'is 'ttention Arven Arven ArvenArvenArven—_

"Huh?" Arven looked around. "Who there?"

__

Finally!

…Now what?

Romsca scratched her head. "Er…don't I glow or somethin'?"

Arven began looking around the forest wildly, and began waving his stick over his head. "Yah, I bain't be scared! Iffen you be a blizzard I whack you!"

…Okay. Romsca ran down the facts. She had contact with the little bugger. She did it by…concentrating really hard. Right. So…maybe if she concentrated really hard, maybe she'd make herself visible.

Well, at least being a corsair was good for something. A corsair knew how to concentrate. Came from drinking too much sea grog and yet still requiring cognitive capability afterwards since you were under the eyes of a scaly lizard named Lask and/or Mad Eyes Loony (Romsca's personal, private title for the pine marten).

So, Romsca concentrated really hard, and was rewarded not with a silent awe or respectful fear of the appearance of an angel to a young dibbun, but rather,

"Yeeeeekkk!"

Romsca looked down to see herself in her old corsair garb. A stained, old green tunic lashed together with a plain brown leather belt, with a ragged red vest thrown over that, and a cutlass jammed through the belt. A slight pressure over her forehead told her that her headband was back too. The halo seemed to have disappeared as well. Well. This was an improvement. Sort of.

By now, since he hadn't been eaten, cut up, stewed, captured, or given a bath, Arven looked up and stared wide-eyed at the evil-looking-angel-vermin-like-beast. "Wot be _you_?"

Well, there was nothing like scaring a young one to do the right things. Makes the lesson stick.

Romsca drew her cutlass and growled. "I be yer worst nightmare! I be bigger than blizzards, I be a deadly corsair!"

"Yeeeeek!" Arven began running wildly away, away from The Voice and Scary Image that had suddenly changed.

Romsca followed after Arven, waving her cutlass. "I be death, I be the spawn o' thunder, I eat little climbers like ye!"

Romsca was really getting into it. Alright, so she had a twisted sense of humor, but what corsair didn't? And anyway, she _was_ leading Arven back to Redwall – sort of.

"An' ye know wot I do to little climbers when I catch 'em? I slice 'em up an' chars 'em over a good fire! Little climbers better stay inside where it's safe or I'll get 'em!"

Screaming all the way, Arven shot through the woods, past the open Redwall gates, past a bewildered Wullger the gatekeeper, and into the dormitories where he huddled beneath the covers for the rest of the day. And the next day. And for quite some time, Arven had a distinct fear of leaving the Redwall walls…

Romsca laughed and floated back up where Martin was waiting. "Well? 'Ow I do?"

In the course of events, Martin had went through over twenty emotions, ranging from utter shock to dismay to fear to being simply, purely dumbfounded. He floated in mid-air, staring into empty space.

This was not a state of being common to Martin the Warrior.

As Romsca waited, Martin closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Right. Mission Accomplished. Yes. Right. So…next in the procedure of Guardian Angel Training was the Debriefing… Martin raised a paw.

"Well. The good thing is that your training is over. Apparently you've got the hang of Speaking, Manifesting, and Summoning, due to your appearance to Arven and your sudden clothing change."

Romsca lowered her cutlass. "…And the bad thing?"

"Well, Arven was _supposed_ to be the next Redwall Warrior. I doubt he'll want to after this." Martin sighed. "I have a lot of work to do."

__

Whoops.


	3. Mission Two: Swamptail

__

Disclaimer: Toboe LoneWolf does not own Redwall; Brian Jacques does; do you see any name or writing style resemblance? No? I thought so.

Toboe LoneWolf: Heyla. Peace. You know, I have an update section in my bio, for those that want to know my writing "status." Or you could contact me via aim or e-mail.

On this chapter. Uh…yeah. This was…alright, so when I write humor, sometimes the ideas are just…really random…

* * *

__

Mission Two: Swamptail

This obviously called for a change in plans. Martin rubbed his forehead. And he thought _living_ was hard…

Romsca shuffled her footpaws. This was not good. "Er, what'll--"

Martin raised a paw. "Just…wait. Let me think."

Alright. She'd already mastered the basics. This was unusual in and of itself, since it usually took woodlanders two or three times to get the hang of everything, whereas Romsca had simply "improvised" and…gotten it right. So, he couldn't just give Romsca practice missions or leave her to train; he had to give her a Real Mission. Because it was in the Rules.

Unfortunately, there was the big Turning Point coming up. They couldn't have any mess-ups, not now. And quite frankly, the Council wasn't quite ready for a corsair guardian angel. There wasn't anything planned.

Oh shoot, the Council… Martin blanched at that thought.

__

Stall, Martin! Stall!

Martin felt a headache coming on. Come on, anything! Stretching out a paw he scanned the area.

__

Yes!

With a sigh of relief Martin grabbed Romsca.

"Alright then, here's the plan. I have to go to a meeting and tell the council that you're fully trained as a rank one guardian angel. Meanwhile, your next mission is to help the dibbun Swamptail."

Romsca looked at him in bewilderment as Martin whirled her around and pushed her in a general direction. "Wot'd yer mean, 'elp the young'un? Wait a tic, I'm a guardian angel now? Wot meeting? I just screwed up yer warrior dibbun, I gotta fix it—"

"One, the Council is made up of badgers. Two, you'll have to fix it after Arven comes out of the sheets. Three, I'm running a bit short of time here, alright?"

Romsca blinked. Badgers? Oooooh, sea'n'fur. She. Was. Dead.

…Wait a sec, she _was_ dead…

…Getting used to this I'm-Dead-But-I'm-An-Angel-Now Thing was going to take some time…

How'd she get into this mess, anyway? Oh right, she was too good for her own good. She should've listened to her father, and then she'd be in Hellgates where she properly belonged, and none of this angel business mess.

Martin tapped her forehead. "Swamptail. Dibbun. Help. Stall. Okay?"

And with that Martin pushed her off, and Romsca floated downward to some beach, where a little stoat was roaming about.

****

x x x x x

Well, Romsca wasn't quite used to the floating mode of transportation, and came down a bit too fast and—

__

Thwoosh!

Sand flew everywhere. Romsca sneezed, hacked, and coughed. How'd heck did that happen? She was an angel, and therefore _dead_, didn't that mean she couldn't touch anything? Or at least, _hit_ into anything. Eyes streaming tears, she barely made out a tiny figure waving a piece of driftwood.

Swamptail didn't have a clue of what was happening (who did?) but when presented with an (apparently) incapacitated beast, his corsair upbringing came forth and demanded submission from the lower life forms. (Never mind that he was about the one-third of the size of his intended-slave-to-be, he was a Mighty Corsair of the Seas, right?)

"Hey you! You be the prisoner of the Great Swamptail!" Swamptail jabbed his stick forward.

Romsca had the delight to see a stick go straight through her gut.

Automatically Romsca's paw whipped out and bonked Swamptail right on the head. Swamptail squealed and fell back, dropping his stick, while Romsca rubbed the last bit of sand out of her eye. Growling, she reached out and grabbed Swamptail's shirt before he could scurry away.

"Alright, lemme git this straight. I ain't a prisoner of anybeast, an' I ain't gonna be. And anyways, makin' a prisoner of anybeast ain't a good idea anysorts." Romsca rolled her eyes. "Oi, what'm I sayin' ?" Romsca gave Swamptail a look. "Hey, why you wanderin' around anyways?"

Swamptail squirmed in Romsca's grip. "I didn't do nuthin'! I didn't mean to, really! I was just playin'—"

Romsca raised a paw. "Tell me th' truth!" She shifted her grip on Swamptail so that she held him by the scruff on his neck. "Tell me now, or I'll whack you again!"

…She never did have much motherly instinct, anyway.

"Me mum kicked me out," Swamptail muttered.

Romsca blinked. Ooookay. Now what?

"An' why is that?"

Another shake made him answer. "I dinna want to eat green stuff."

Romsca blinked again. Green stuff? …Oh. Vegetables. …Right. _Now_ what?

Stalling for time, Romsca simply held Swamptail in the air as he squirmed, wiggled and attempted to bite Romsca's paw, to no avail because 1) Romsca had a pretty good grip; and 2) His teeth went right through her incorporeal body.

Romsca stared at his antics. Okay, so although _she_ could hold _him_, _he_ couldn't touch _her_. Pieces of driftwood included.

Raising an eyebrow at another _chop-chop_ of empty teeth, Romsca gave Swamptail another shake.

"Alright then, you listen t' me. Eat that green stuff, 'cause it's way better than eating biscuits on a ship. Trust me on that one, little bugger. Green stuff is better 'cause it helps keep yer teeth from rottin'." Romsca grinned, and Swamptail stared into pearly white fangs (angel glow included). "See, I got nice teeth 'cause I ate me greens."

…_What_ in the name of Hellgates was she _saying?_

"Second thing. Slaves ain't a good idea. 'Cause see, they fight." Romsca stared into Swamptail's eyes. "Ya see me? I wouldn't make a very good slave, yes?"

Swamptail nodded wildly.

"And it ain't right anyways. Ya got it?" Romsca gave Swamptail another paw-shake. "Any questions?"

"Ah…" Swamptail gulped. "Who be you?"

Romsca pointed at the halo. "An angel, wot else?" She dropped Swamptail. "Yah, you be too little. I ain't good dealin' with young'uns. You just go back home, alright? I'll come back later."

Staring wide-eyed at Romsca, Swamptail stumbled off in the direction of home. Home, where there would be comforting realness and no weird ferrets that came out of the sky and talked about weird things like eating vegetables.

…But just in case, he would eat 'em.

Romsca rubbed her head. Oi. Little buggers was just not her thing. She looked up into the sky.

"Alright, _now_ what?"

****

x x x x x

__

In the course of time, a thread was changed.

Swamptail the Shiny he was called, and feared across the waters.

Ruthless in his search for the best and freshest greens on his ships, he struck fear into any crewbeast of his that dared not eat their vegetables. Doubly frightened were they, for Swamptail the Shiny took no slaves aboard his ship, choosing instead to promote the Brotherhood Of Eating Greens Among Corsairs.

…Not that crewbeasts had much choice, if they didn't want to meet with Swamptail's shiny fangs.

—And up above, a bunch of badgers were seriously discomfited.—


	4. Mission Three: Gwarg

__

Disclaimer: Toboe LoneWolf doesn't own _Redwall_, nor will Toboe ever, except for one autographed copy of the novel. XD

Toboe LoneWolf: And so I continue this very weird fic. And I continue to try and continue to fail at a seabeast accent. Ah, for writing is a continuous action, never mind the fact that this is a very Whacked Out Idea with a very Whacked Out Author, who nevertheless continues to write Whacked-Out-outedly…XD

* * *

__

Mission Three: Gwarg

In life, Martin had faced mad wildcats, bloodthirsty sea rats, crazy foxes, and countless vermin.

In death, Martin faced a whole lot of not-pleased badgers.

Martin wasn't quite sure which one was better.

"So what you're trying to tell me, " said Lord Brocktree, "is that the ferret Romsca is now a Guardian Angel, and is currently on a mission?"

Martin nodded.

"Scandalous," Lord Stonepaw muttered, "Back in my day we didn't have any 'good' vermin or 'redeemable' vermin, we just had 'bad' vermin. We didn't need any guardian angels to protect us from vermin either, we just whacked off their heads."

Lord Brocktree rolled his eyes. "Daaaad…"

Martin coughed. "So as I was saying…Romsca the ferret has been deemed trained and given a rank one Guardian Angel status. First mission was, er, deemed successful. There were, um, repercussions, though."

"And…"

"Well…Romsca felt that the 'scare tactic' was best. She was quite…effective. At this point, I doubt that Arven will succeed as the next Redwall Warrior."

Another badger at the table groaned. "Don't tell me that. We had enough problems with Mattimeo, let alone _Arven_."

Martin rubbed his head. Orlando the Ax did have a point there. Mattimeo had gotten so bad that they'd had to bring in Chickenhound to basically give the mouse a good kick in the tail. And that had been a pain in the tail itself to coordinate. The slave drive, Malkarris…Ironbeak was an unexpected bonus – that was _supposed_ to been the "wake-up" call for Mattimeo, kind of like Cluny for Matthias…but…

Martin sighed. This was bad. He knew it, the Badger Council knew it, everyone in heaven knew it, and…this was most definitely bad, bad, bad.

Orlando thumped a paw on the heavy wooden table where the Badger Council sat. "What is the state of Arven now?"

"Ah, hiding under his covers, sir." Martin answered truthfully. "It's not likely that he'll come out anytime soon."

"Anyone else eligible for the position of Warrior?"

"Not without seriously changing timelines, sir. I suppose Tammo could do it," Martin mused, "but it'll take a large amount of steering to get him in place and in time. It's a hard position to fill, requiring a fine balance. And he's already been born, to the north, and since we've planned on him for the Long Patrol, major change will be required. The consequences might be devastating especially so near to…well, you know."

"Indeed," Lord Brocktree rumbled. "We cannot fail this. What is Romsca doing now?"

"Er…changing Swamptail's timeline. Originally Swamptail the Smelly, now…" Martin tilted his head, and light swirled around him for a moment. "Swamptail the Shiny."

Orlando blinked. "Swamptail the Shiny."

"Because he ate vegetables."

No one spoke for a moment. Then Lord Brocktree sighed, and said, "Well, I would like to talk with the ferret that is able to scare dibbuns to bed and convince stoats to eat vegetables."

He reached out a paw and scrawled a sign into the air. With a flash of white light, Romsca appeared next to Martin.

Romsca swore and rubbed her eyes. "Hey! Wot in th'name of Hellgates was that? Can't a decent ferret get a notice or somethin' when somebeast gets the fool notion t'play with—" Romsca stopped as she saw who was before her.

"Aw Hellgates."

"Romsca, Guardian Angel, you were the one to…'guide' the young Arven back to Redwall, are you not?" Lord Brocktree demanded, staring down at her far across the table.

Romsca swallowed. "Er…yes."

"You are also aware of its consequences, yes?"

Oh sea'n'fur. She'd scared the bugger out of his wits, and Martin had said he'd been important.

"Yes."

"And you also know," Lord Brocktree leveled one eye sternly at her, "that _you_ will be the one to fix it, yes?"

Romsca squirmed. "Er…yes…yer Lordyship."

Lord Brocktree blinked. Romsca mentally whacked herself on her head. A corsair's rough way of address wasn't exactly the right etiquette at a Blinkin' Badger Board.

Whoops. …Not that Romsca would ever refer to Them out loud as the "Blinkin' Badger Board." Right? Right.

Lord Brocktree continued, though he looked down at Romsca with a strange eye. A corsair in the ranks was unusual…it was a new idea hammered out long ago, and unfortunately it took a while to find an appropriate "vermin" to start with.

"Since it is unlikely that you can help Arven at this time, since he is still hiding in his bed, you in the meantime will guide other young ones."

__

More little buggers? She wasn't a granny, she was a _corsair!_ Corsairs didn't deal with the wrangling of midgets!

"So, for your third mission: the young rat Gwarg." Lord Brocktree scrawled another sign into the air. "Good luck."

Romsca stood in dismay as bright light blinded her again.

****

x x x x x

Romsca swore again as she burst out of the light or whatever-it-was into some random forest clearing. Couldn't they find a better form of transportation than blinding people or floating like twiddle birdies? Well, at least she hadn't crashed – she was standing on the ground on two sensible paws, like any other sensible beast.

Romsca looked around. Okay, on the ground. Check. Have appropriate weaponry, check. Bugger Gwarg…no check.

How in the name of sea and fur was she supposed to help this Gwarg Gripe if she couldn't _find_ the bugger?

__

"Hwoaaaaaarg!"

__

"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek!"

Romsca scrambled to get out of the way as two midget beasts came storming out of the forest. A little…whatever it was, Romsca couldn't tell except for flailing paws and brown fur and about knee-height, and a much larger rat chasing the miniature midget.

Rat. …Oh right, Gwarg.

"OI!" Romsca stuck out a paw.

With a heavy thud, the rat tripped. The other young one continued to run screaming. Romsca rolled her eyes, and then prodded the rat with her paw.

"Hey. Are you Gwarg?"

__

"Hwoaaaaaarg!"

Romsca raised an eyebrow as the rat leapt up, ran right through her, stopped, turned around, and roared ferociously.

…At least, that was what Romsca thought he was trying to do. It wasn't working.

__

"Hwoaaaaaarg!"

"Oh, knock it off," Romsca waved a paw. "Now, be you Gwarg or not?"

__

"Hwoaaaaaarg!"

Romsca hit her face with her paw. This was getting nowhere.

__

"Hwoaaaaaarg! I be Gwarg, born of giant rats! I be fear, I be death, I be eating you!"

Romsca now looked a bit more interested. Sure, if she'd been alive, she would've been frightened. Hellgates, the bugger didn't look like he was full-grown yet – once that bugger grew up, he'd be huge. And anyway, she was already dead.

"Yah, and I be Romsca, Feared Corsair of the Seas, and nobeast dares face me cutlass." Romsca unsheathed her sword. "Anythin' else?"

__

"Hwoaaaaaarg!"

Gwarg charged. Romsca felt mildly scared. All right, a lot.

Ah well, she was dead already, so what's the point? Stepping aside Romsca let Gwarg rush past before whacking Gwarg on the back of his head with the flat part of her blade.

This thud, if anything, was louder and harder than the first. And created a larger dust cloud.

"Righto." Romsca flipped her blade and resheathed it. "An' now that yer listenin' t' me, I'm gonna give yer a few pointers and th' such.

"First off, don't attack somebeast ye don't know, 'less you wanna die. Ain't smart tactics."

Gwarg groaned.

"Two, ye ain't to scare dem little 'uns anyhow. Iffen you be bigger than them, den ye's gotta protect 'em, see? 'Cause they'll be yer mates someday, an' they won't be much of a mate iffen you scared them outta their mind, see?" Romsca thonked Gwarg on the head for emphasis.

"See, I did that once, and I'm tellin' you straight, th' little bugger got so scared he ain't good for squat now." Romsca sighed. "An' that was stupid, 'cause now I'm in a real tight mess now 'cause of it."

"And anyhow," Romsca waved a paw, feeling strangely eloquent. "Why's somebeast wanna make another scared o' him anyway? It ain't like there ain't enough space t' live in or nuff food t' eat. Them woodlanders, ye know, they's got lots of great stuff t' eat, an' they don't make nobeast scared of another, do they?"

"An' I tell somethin' else," Romsca whispered. "They like sharing food."

Gwarg's eyes lit up. It was like seeing the sun come up from the waters again.

Romsca laughed. "Hey, a great big lump like you needs lots o' food. So, you make some nice friends, they share some food, an' everythin' all nice and easy, eh?"

"Alrighty then, my time's up. See ya around, Gwarg." With that Romsca turned around and walked back into the forest.

Only after walking for awhile, admiring the scenery – hey, she'd spent most of her life on a ship – did she realize that she didn't know how to get back to the Blinkin' Badger Board.

It was getting to be a bit overused, but Romsca resignedly thought, _Now what?_

****

x x x x x

__

In the web that is called Time, a strand was altered.

Gwarg the Gargantuan he was called, and …Gwarg the Gargantuan he remained.

And yet, though Gwarg would become three times as large as any other rat, it was his heart that changed.

For although his beginnings foretold that Gwarg would be a fearsome beast, a one beast army that decimated vermin and woodlanders alike, now…

Well, now Gwarg was simply a big-hearted, easy-going, loveable bum.

—And up above, the Badger Council was very… troubled.—


	5. Mission Numbers Four to Forever

Toboe LoneWolf: …I apologize greatly for the lateness. My only excuse is schoolwork and a sad inability to work well with original characters. But hey, you get an extra long chapter here. XP

When I first came with the idea of this fic, it had no plot. XP It was just basically going to be the escapades of Romsca dealing with various vermin in various humorous ways, holier-than-thou fashion. Because come on, an angel vermin rocks. XD Along the way a drabble of a plot came through; nothing great, nothing extensive. In any case this fic hinged on the fact that I would create an OC vermin for Romsca to deal with. Which I cannot do very well.

Therefore, I am basically fast-forwarding here. No matter what, I always finish my fics – sooner or later. This fic really never had a plot; it was basically going to be "The Chronicles of Romsca the Guardian Angel," that sort of thing, but I hate to leave things hanging when really, I can't come up with OC vermin.

However, that doesn't mean you can't do it yourselves. (_winks_) No, I am not taking requests. That doesn't mean that the escapades of Romsca the Guardian Angel, or really, a guardian angel of any Redwall vermin, cannot be written by you, dear readers. (It'd better be plausible though. The only way I'd see Cluny the Guardian Angel is in a wildly AU and most likely OOC humor/parody fic. XD)

So. I'll be carrying on. Let the rest of the chronicles be written elsewhere. (_winks_)

Disclaimer: Toboe LoneWolf does not own the series Redwall. Or angels.  
…LoneWolf does own these cute little angel wings and a halo from old Christmas pageants though, does that count? No? Well pooh.  
_(And once again I apologize for the accent abuse and modernization of speech. My only excuse is that it is funny to me. Whether that is good enough is your opinion.)_

* * *

_Mission_ _Numbers Four to Forever: The Abbreviated Chronicles _

So.

Romsca counted on her paw. That was…let's see, three little 'uns that'd she'd dealt with? Yeah. That Arven furball, the veggie stoat, and the paradox little giant. Romsca sighed. And how many times was she supposed to do this? Romsca raised an eyebrow. Scratch that, what in hellgates was she supposed to do now?

She shrugged and idly waved her cutlass around. "Yar, mission accomplished. Beam me up, badger me buckos."

…Imagine her surprise when she _was_ beamed up.

…Those badgers had no sense of humor.

**x x x x x**

Lord Brocktree groaned. "She did _what_?"

"Gwarg is now, well, a peaceful, loveable giant that takes handouts." Laterose of Noonvale, more commonly known as Rose, turned from the glowing mirror.

Urthstripe looked upwards. "I knew that this vermin guardian angel was going to change too much."

Stonepaw nodded sagely. "The old ways are best."

"The old ways are a little _too_ old." Lord Brocktree rubbed his head. "Besides, we need all the help we can get."

"_Can_ get?" Orlando brandished his ax across the table. "She's practically rewriting history!"

Martin raised an eyebrow as he entered the room. "History hasn't even occurred yet."

Orlando glared. "You know what I mean."

"Pish tush." Rose waved a paw, getting up to stand next to Martin. "Does it matter? At least she's changing the threads. Perhaps not in the exact direction we wanted, but does it matter? At least it's _different_."

"Aw hellgates. What'd I screw up this time?"

All of the badgers heads turned to face Romsca.

Romsca blinked. "What? I ain't supposed t'be here?" She jabbed a paw at Martin. "_He_ said you called."

Lord Brocktree sighed. "In a manner of speaking."

"Alrighty then. Then can one of youse _please_ explain what in hellgates I'm doing, running around after little buggers?"

A long moment of silence and staring.

Romsca thought about rephrasing that. Then reconsidered. And then thought it best to simply shut her corsair mouth and look innocent. …It wasn't like they could kill her for impertinence.

Martin finally spoke. "Er. Well…it's a bit complicated."

"I got eternity, don't I?"

Rose shook her head. "Not really."

Romsca blinked. "Eh?"

"Well, it's like this." Martin scratched an ear. "Mortals are like this strand of thread. And we guardian angels basically direct where the thread goes."

"We are like weavers of cloth," Rose continued. "Ones who guide the threads to make something whole and beautiful."

"We are Guardians," Lord Brocktree added. "We protect the weave, preventing the Forces of Darkness from destroying the design."

"We are Guides," Orlando rumbled. "We lead the young to the right path, and keep them from turning wayward."

"We are all of this and more." A distinct glow was emanating around them. Martin outstretched his paws. "We are warriors, we are peacemakers, we, the Protectors of the Light, Defender of Justice, we are One, and Many."

And an invisible chorus sang,

_"Hail!  
Hail to the ones of the Light!  
Never shall the darkness win!  
Let the threads be united in harmony,  
Joining in one chorus!  
Hail!"_

And with a great flash of brightness and glory and magnificence, it ended.

…Romsca stared. That was undoubtedly one of the cheesiest, dramatic moments of Romsca's life. Non-life. Whatever.

"Well, ain't we all special," she drawled.

Lord Brocktree leveled his eyes at her. "Yes."

"And what yer basically sayin' is we're all workin' for th' forces of good an' all that?" Romsca waved a paw. "I like that. Me, workin' fer good. Gotta laugh at that 'un…" Romsca trailed off as Lord Brocktree continued to glare. "Er. Right. So… what kinda good work do I get to do now?"

Rose tilted her head, and her eyes looked into the distance. "As of this moment? Fixing Arven."

Martin sighed. "Oh good, he's out of the covers."

Romsca blinked. " 'Ey, ain't he th' one I scared outta his fur?"

Orlando sighed. "That's the one." He glared at Romsca. "He was integral to the weave, and then you managed to completely tangle the whole thing. He was supposed to be the next Warrior of Redwall, and a vital part to the next great crossroads."

"Eh?"

Martin shook his head. "Never mind, I'll explain it later." He pushed Romsca out of the room. "Going…"

" 'Ey! I still don't get it! I want answers!"

"And you'll get them later. _After_ Arven."

**x x x x x**

Romsca sighed. Back here again. Redwall, that is. She looked at her surroundings. Well, not that she'd ever been inside the walls, and in the dormitories to boot, but…right. Avoiding the situation. Romsca turned back on task.

She frowned. When that Martin mouse said the Arven bugger was out of his covers, Romsca didn't think he meant that literally.

Well, he was. Arven was out of his covers. And that was about it. Sitting on top of his bed, clutching the blankets around him, but hey, he was out of his covers. Romsca sighed again. That was an accomplishment though, right? Right?

Romsca emerged from the shadows. At least there was no one else here to see her.

"Oi."

Arven shrieked.

Romsca blinked.

She waved her paws as Arven dived back under the covers. " 'Ey! I ain't gonna hurt you!" She recalled what she'd said back then. "Or eat ya, or fry ya, or…yeah. Anythin'."

Arven shivered. "Nonono noes! Not gonna eat me! I's not outside, I inside like a good l'ttle dibbun!"

Romsca scratched her ear. "Uh…yeah. That's the point."

Arven stopped twitching. Romsca rubbed her nose. Okay, now what? She was supposed to "fix" him. "Make him a Warrior," that Martin mouse said. Tooth and claw. How in hellgates was she supposed to do that? Vermin never were made to be fighters or corsairs, basically they were frightened to death until they acted. "Throw the babe in the sea to make 'im swim," that was the basic corsair-raising technique, not some coddling or whatever…

…Avoiding the situation again.

Awkwardly Romsca walked over and…patted Arven. Surprisingly, the tyke didn't leap up and scream. Maybe it really was true – what you can't see can't hurt you…for young ones, that is.

Romsca swallowed. "So…ah…I hear you're really brave." Well. That was a great start. "And strong."

Arven squeaked.

Romsca continued to pat uneasily. "And…uh…"

This was not working and she could not think of a reason of how to _make_ it work.

Aw, to Hellgates with it. She was doing this the corsair way.

Romsca sighed for a third time. Although she'd have to make a few revisions. Oh, this was going to be _humiliating_…

With that she yanked off the covers and contorted her face into the scariest expression as possible.

"Waaaaargh!"

…And got the predicted response:

"Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek!"

…And what Arven was _not_ expecting was to see his scary apparition suddenly yell back in supposed fright and cover her face.

"Wah?" Arven gaped.

Inside her mind Romsca was ranting. Oh, this was definitely humiliating. And pathetic. Why couldn't the woodlanders be all brave and stuff _now_? Nevertheless, Romsca kept up with the act.

"Aaaah! 'Tis be the, uh, Great Arven! None can pass him! Everybeast quakes in his mighty wrath, the, uh, Warrior Arven!"

Thank hellgates…or whatever…that young ones were so easily impressible in manners like these.

Arven puffed his tiny chest. "Yaaaah! Youse better be 'fraid of me! I gonna whack you nowse!" He leapt off the bed and ran towards Romsca.

Romsca gave a very fake yell and ran around in circles, being chased by a dibbun.

Yes, very laughable indeed.

_Pleeeeeease…_

"Arven, what is that racket?"

Oh thank hellgates. Heavens. …She needed a new epithet. With relief Romsca turned invisible again. Arven stopped running and proudly faced the doorway.

"I just scareded away a blizzard!"

Tansy looked at Arven. Right. And blinked twice. Well, as long as Arven was no longer frightened out of his wits…

"Well, that was very…brave of you."

Arven skipped towards Tansy. "Don't youse worry, Tansy pansy, I protects youse. Now we's a gonna play!"

Bewildered, Tansy let herself be dragged down the stairs by a back-to-hyperactive Arven.

Why couldn't there be a happy medium…?

**x x x x x**

Outside, Martin blinked.

Romsca sure had a…interesting…technique.

Martin kept a calm face as Romsca emerged from Redwall. Romsca glared at him as they floated in mid-air.

"Before you say anythin': sure, us corsairs do it that way, but when we do it, we as sure as hellgates ain't fakin'." She came up close. "We do it fer real."

Martin blinked. "…Interesting family dynamic."

Romsca snorted. "You have no idea."

Martin rubbed the back of his neck. "Um. So…ah…as for your next mission…"

Romsca groaned. "Another one?"

Martin smiled apologetically. "A guardian's work is never done. And as the first corsair guardian angel, you have a lot of work…"

Romsca groaned again.

**x x x x x**

_And lo, Romsca did do many deeds and quests in the name of good. And behold! For in tradition, these were written down in the Book of Chronicles, but in an Addendum entitled Archives Written By the Followers of the Recorder Brian Jacques. And so it was that Romsca learned and grew in wisdom and strength. There is too much to tell, for time does not pass the same way in their world as in ours. Let us skim the pages, then, to at least know part of the tale…_

**x x x x x**

"Oi!"

Redsnout jumped up. "Who's dat?"

Romsca waved a paw in front of his face. "Me."

Redsnout yelled and fell back down. "Yaaahh!"

"Hey! I ain't gonna hurt ya, I'm just…just…" Romsca frantically tried to come up with a reason, "uh, I'm an angel!"

She pointed at the halo over her head.

Redsnout stared. "…Yer an angel?"

Romsca sighed. "Somethin' like that."

"Yer can't be no angel, you be a corsair, and corsairs can't be no angel!" Redsnout scratched an ear. "…Wot be an angel anyways?"

Romsca shrugged. "Dunno. Came with the job; my pop never said nuthin' about angel-types." Romca rubbed her head. "So. How's life?"

"Dunno."

"…Uh huh. Yer mum?"

Redsnout blinked. "She makes food."

…

**x x x x x**

_And met others…of her kind…_

**x x x x x**

Romsca blinked. "There's another one like me?"

Martin smiled sheepishly. "Well, sort of. He's not of guardian rank like you, but he helps from time to time." He waved a paw. "Oi, come out, Blaggut."

Romsca turned to see a large searat.

Blaggut shuffled his feet, looking at the floor. A floor made of fluffy clouds, but at least it wasn't see-through and Blaggut could continue the notion that if he stared hard enough, nothing truly embarrassing would happen.

"Er…I be Blaggut. I make boats."

**x x x x x**

_And learned of her new life…_

**x x x x x**

Romsca rubbed her eyes. "So wot yer sayin' is that, that Rose lady mousey looks into this glowy thing, and she sees somebeast or somethin' an' she tells this badger lordy Lord Brocktree, and then he pulls me tail and sends me off on a mission? That 'ow it works?"

Martin raised an eyebrow. "Bluntly put, yes. Though you probably don't want to say that to his face."

Romsca opened her eyes and looked at Martin. "Alright, so now that I've got that, I got a question."

The aforementioned lady mouse walked into the heavenly courtyard where Martin was teaching Romsca the subtleties of her new world. She was carrying a tray of honey cakes, which she handed to Martin. Martin offered Romsca a cake.

Romsca took it and began to scarf it. With her other paw she pointed at Rose. "Why is she always bringing you honey cakes?"

Martin flushed.

"She's my wife."

"…Oh."

Rose laughed.

**x x x x x**

_And grew in strength…_

**x x x x x**

"Wot in hellgates?" Romsca craned her neck to look at her back.

Rose smiled. "Ah, you've come a long way, Romsca."

Martin nodded. "Wings mean you've climbed higher in rank."

Romsca glared.

"And wot in hellgates does a rank of _half a wing_ mean?" She said, waving the offending appendage.

**x x x x x**

_And continued to be a corsair through and through, guardian angel or not… _

**x x x x x**

The pine marten snuffled and rolled over. "Wotcher be _you?_"

Romsca glared at him. "I asked _you_." Romsca unsheathed her cutlass. A nice view of a Sharp Pointy Object never hurt...

The pine marten stared. "Oi, I be Trellen."

**x x x x x**

_And gained in wisdom…_

**x x x x x**

Romsca sighed. "Why 'm I the one who has t'do this? Can't some other angel do this?"

Martin shook his head. "We don't have anyone with your history, or background, or simply anyone who really understands how a corsair works." Martin walked over and tapped Romsca's forehead. "So, your next mission remains the same. The fox Nightpaw."

"Only me…" Romsca trailed off.

Martin nodded sadly. "Only you."

Romsca turned to face the sun. "Guess there ain't many corsairs that turn out like me."

"No. Not many." Martin put a paw on Romsca's shoulder. "But you're helping. Soon, there will be more like you…you are only the first."

"I had a bad past." Romsca said suddenly. "Perhaps all corsairs do. And maybe that's why only I can do this. …It's hard, though. Doing this alone."

"I know." Martin trailed off, remembering. "But remember…you are never really alone in this. We are all working together."

Romsca pulled back, smiling. Two pairs of wings manifested, glowing pearly white. Yes, Romsca had finally attained her wings.

"And I can at least make this one's better. Nightpaw, was it?"

Martin nodded. Romsca shifted, and flew – back down to earth, where somebeast needed her…

**x x x x x**

_And lo, this is just a part of Romsca's tale. _

_Oolong the Mighty, Scrufftail the Swordsmith, Piffle the Babysitter…all of these and more Romsca had a part in. Krump the Jolly, Perclaw the Green…each one, changed by Romsca's actions. A thread in time, changed forever…_

_And then the time came for the Great Battle…the one that would determine the age…_


End file.
